I got one also. I’ve never owned an encyclopedia. I’ve used plenty of them though. And my parents had one.
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My parents got the Britannica and Hispanica specifically for us to use so i counted it for myself.
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Zero too
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One for me. I’ve never sent or received a fax
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1 point, but that’s a technicality, really - we never had Blockbuster over here. So if I interpret this as “rented videos”, then 0 points.
When you flip it to “Things I still do” - 12 points.
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After dinner mints! (I always hated those airy, chalky things.)
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Zero. Sigh…
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Weirdly, medical offices still depend heavily on fax machines. Did this last week.
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Zero points, plus more negative points for “used a payphone”, “used a fountain pen”, and “used a slide rule”. Total: -3.
I still use paper maps when I want to avoid the looking-through-a-keyhole GPS experience.
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I was in a car last fall, trying to navigate for the driver, and the damned gps swivelled around every time we turned a corner so that I couldn’t tell which way was north. Didn’t help that the driver is a terrible driver.
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Winter Haiku Written By Basho
Come, let’s go
Snow-viewing
Till we’re buried.Awake at night—
The sound of the water jar
Cracking in the cold.The winter sun—
On the horse’s back
My frozen shadow.First winter rain—
Even the monkey
Seems to want a raincoat.Winter rain—
The field stubble
Has blackened.First snow
Falling
On the half-finished bridge.On the cow shed
A hard winter rain;
Cock crowing.The winter storm
Hide the bamboo grove
And quieted away.Winter solitude—
In a world of one color
The sound of wind.Awake at night,
The lamp low,
The oil freezing.When the winter chrysanthemums go,
There’s nothing to write about
But radishes.The she cat—
Grown thin
From love and barley.Winter garden,
The moon thinned to a thread,
Insects singing.Wintry wind—
Passing a man
With a swollen face.The winter leeks
Have been washed white –
How cold it is!All this foolishness
About moons and blossoms
Pricked by the cold’s needle.Still alive
And frozen in one lump—
The sea slugs.Winter Haiku Written by Buson
Blow of an ax,
Pine scent,
The winter woods.The sound of a saw;
Poor people,
Winter midnight.Going home,
The horse stumbles
In the winter wind.Straw sandal half sunk
In an old pond
In the sleety snow.Cover my head
Or my feet?
The winter quilt.Tethered horse;
Snow
In both stirrups.Flowers offered to the Buddha
Come floating
Down the winter river.Miles of frost –
On the lake
The moon’s my own.Winter Haiku Written by Issa
Sangedastsu by Kawase Hasui
The snow is melting
And the village is flooded
With children.January—
In other provinces
Plums blossoming.Napped half the day;
No one
Punished me!From the end of the nose
Of the Buddha on the moor
Hang icicles.Writing shit about new snow
For the rich
Is not art.Here,
I’m here—
The snow falling
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That gets me to -2, never used a fountain pen
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